Dead Man
The dead man sits on his sofa and watches TV
in his East German tower block apartment.
Cash in the bank pays his bills, no eviction notice here.
What was once a real person is a mummified corpse, all wrinkled and shrunken.
For three years he's been like this, a TV critic.
Bored fucking shitless, dead.
From soaps to films, he's endured them all.
No neighbours check up on him. Police state mentality persists.
If you've no reason to go there, don't!
No one robs his place, who wants to rob from an old man?
Now dead. But no one knows.
Three years passed before TV man was found.
A workman needed to check the plumbing.
He broke the door in and got the shock of his life!
A desiccated corpse smiled grimly at him.
The TV blared incessantly, mindless crap bending the mind of a dead man.
Did the repair man wish the corpse had a weekly electric meter
and not a bank payment scheme?
He called it in and the dead TV man became a celebrity,
albeit a dead one, all alone.
Forgotten.
Game
In the game of life
and equation of fate,
what were the chances?
You took my mates...
What will you take next?
My life?
Butt
They met
at the
back end
of never.
Glad
I’m glad the bitch fucked you off after two decades of shit.
You turned out to be a crap mate, who stabbed me in the back,
breaking my trust.
And my left leg.
It was me who burnt your ten grand car out, my revenge.
I celebrate the break up of your silly friendship, originally off my back.
You dared to love her for twenty years, look how she repaid you.
Fucking you off.
Don’t you see? I’m always right.
Now you don’t hire a pick up truck to move her junk to the next state.
Did you really break all contact or do you still masturbate over her bulbous bust?
If you nock on my door, I’ll shove my twelve gauge in your face.
Take a hike pal and get a life.
You lonely middle aged old man, in love with an ex friend.
Fool.
Fall Ball
The guy and gal got it on too soon.
Her ex was there, a real cunt.
New guy had words, would fuck him up bad if war erupted.
Peace. For now.
Guy and gal fucked like rabbits.
She moaned that he moaned; you fuck me too hard!
He didn’t like her friendship with number two guy,
a bit too close. And he does like you.
She ended up single, giving him orders.
They fell like a lead balloon. Kaput.
He fucked her off and dated her sister.
A baby is on the way.
“Sir, they hit the wrong town”
Ruth was concerned. Spitfire recon photos were the problem. Not the quality but something else. The target, it was wrong. Its street plan was different. Buildings, or what were once buildings, were different. What was wrong? Ruth thought. Do what thy will be the whole of the law. Do it right or it’s a cock up! What have our boys done?
She called her superior officer over. Quietly Ruth raised her concern and he looked closely through the stereoscopic eye glass at the post bombing pic.
“Strewth! You’re right. A right cock up. They hit the wrong bloody town. It’s not Munich. This is bad.
Ruth glanced up with wide intelligent questioning eyes. She looked very pretty in her WAAF uniform, with hair tied back and young features.
“As you sow, so shall you reap,” muttered her officer. Did it matter where the enemy was hit? As long as we bombed them. Our revenge for Coventry, London and a score more. Our Lancasters were pulverizing Germany. Bomber Harris had unleashed his whirlwind, silencing the Luftwaffe’s wind with extreme violence.
An urgent investigation needed to be carried out. It was the wrong target. A new raid would be needed...
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